


This Sunday And Every Sunday Henceforth

by TheBigBadWolf



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, PWP, Sex, Smut, how to spend a sunday, romantic smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-29
Updated: 2013-01-29
Packaged: 2017-11-27 11:12:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/661320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBigBadWolf/pseuds/TheBigBadWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock finds himself wanting so much more than work to keep his mind from rotting and John is more than willing to give him just that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Sunday And Every Sunday Henceforth

Sherlock sank down into his chair and plucked obnoxiously at his beloved violin. John all too aware of the situation huffed and rolled his eyes.

“It’s Sunday Sherlock.” John slammed shut the book he had been reading. “Sunday! You just solved a case yesterday and its bloody Sunday! Can’t you just simply relax like a…” John abruptly cut himself off. “Just relax Sherlock; it’ll do you some good.”

“John.” Sherlock sat up when John stood and made his way into the kitchen.

“Stop, I didn’t mean it like that.” John leaned over the counter and sighed. 221B had never seen such tension before but when, just a month ago, Sherlock had gone and gotten himself held hostage by some maniac, all of John’s defenses had fallen. When the criminal in question had been shot by one very angry doctor and the two companions had returned to their flat John unleashed the fiery pits of hell on Sherlock.

John knew just how dangerous their line of work could be; in fact he counted on it. However with each ‘close encounter’ John had found more and more clarity on the subject that was his feelings for a one Sherlock Holmes. And watching the man he had come to adore repeatedly face death had taken its toll on the good doctor.

With plenty of shouting and insults that stabbed like a knife in the chest, John had threatened his flatmate with leaving. They both knew they had built themselves a life together and that if either of them were to abandon it, everything would crumble. After the shouting had past that night they had, in their own silent way, made up. The fight, however, still hung over them like a dark cloud.

“John, without stimulation, without work my brain will rot.” Sherlock kept his voice steady but John knew how much this particular argument cut away at the man. “It is who I am.”

“I know…Sherlock, I know.” John’s original intention was to make tea but he suddenly found that he didn’t have it in him. “I won’t leave, you know I won’t, but please don’t make me watch you die.” John’s voice turned into a desperate plea. “Please.” Swiftly Sherlock had removed himself from his chair and moved to stand between the sitting room and the kitchen.

“You care?” Sherlock hadn’t meant it as a question but that didn’t stop it from coming out like one.

“Of course I care you brainless git!” John had spun to face the man; he didn’t know if he wanted for be angry or offended. “I care a whole hell of a lot. Enough that if you were to go and get yourself offed I wouldn’t hesitate to be but two steps behind you!” Sherlock cringed at John’s words; he knew each and every one was the absolute truth.

“John…” For the first time in his life Sherlock was at a complete loss for words.

“I know.” John had gone quiet and looked anywhere but at Sherlock. “I know its all about the work for you but…but there is more than that you know.”

Let I be known that despite his lack of experience, Sherlock was not deaf and blind of the world around him. In a flurry of movement they were all but smashed against each other. Sherlock’s hands gently cradled John’s head and John grabbed at any bit of clothing he could reach.

It surprised both men just how easily they had fallen into a rhythm. With John backed against the fridge, they were a steady movement of lips and tongues. Neither fought for dominance but rather simply enjoyed the contact between them.

With their tongues entwined and lips and breath hot against one another, it hadn’t taken long for a moan to escape from one of them, or possibly both. Either way it hadn’t mattered because they had found a rough but steady rhythm and with their bodies flush against one another the heat began to pool between them. The moment John chose to arch his back was the same one Sherlock decided to take as an open invitation to completely ravage John’s neck. It wasn’t until the need for oxygen had forced them apart.

With their foreheads pressed together they both desperately gasped for air. John laughed a bit; it was a wonder that either of them could still stand. At some point Sherlock’s hands had migrated down to John’s hips and John was clutching at the back of Sherlock’s shirt as if it would disappear at any moment and take detective with it.

Sherlock took that intimate moment to catalogue the look of his dear Watson; rumpled hair, half-lidded eyes with blown pupils, full red wet lips, and a look of complete euphoria settling across his features. Sherlock couldn’t help but feel as sense of pride in having been the cause of such a look. Hours could have passed and neither would have noticed or even cared but when Sherlock shifted on his feet it had become obvious just how aroused they both were.

“Sherlock.” John’s voice was ragged and breathy.

“John.” Sherlock’s, however, was as smooth as honey.

“We should…” John had to take another deep breath in. “We should move this to a bed.” Sherlock’s only response was a low guttural hum that sent vibrations through John. Still utterly weak from arousal John did his best to grab one of Sherlock’s hands from his hip. After a bit of awkward rearranging he managed to thread their fingers together and bring their joined hands up to his lips, trailing kisses around Sherlock’s impossibly long fingers.

When John managed to push himself off the fridge he made to pull Sherlock towards his bedroom but Sherlock resisted and pulled in the other direction. When they stopped moving and pulling they ended up arms length away from each in the middle of the kitchen, both sporting straining erections.

“You’ve the necessary items required for such activities.” Sherlock’s voice was still low and smooth. Before John could answer Sherlock took the opportunity to yank John back and into him. Taking every liberty allowed to him, Sherlock locked them in another kiss. This time it was fast and rough, Sherlock bit at John’s lips and let his tongue run along every inch of the doctor’s mouth. Every moment of it was positively sinful. When they finally broke apart for the second time they couldn’t have moved fast enough to get up to John’s room.

With a trail of discarded clothes behind them they fell in a heap onto the bed. John shuddered at the contrast of the cold sheets below him and the deliciously hot body pressing down on him. Hands and teeth and tongues were everywhere all at once at it still wasn’t enough. John taken the situation into his own hands angled his hips so they were perfectly matched with Sherlock’s, the sensation of skin on skin was nearly enough to send them both over the edge. Gently John rutted up into Sherlock’s own pressing erection and the touch was electric. The friction building between them was buzzing in the back of John’s brain.

“S’hlock.” John threw his head back and arched up. Sherlock dipped his head and pressed into John’s shoulders, his hands traveling up to push John’s own hands up above his head. Thoroughly slicked with pre-cum they slid across one another and lapsed into a slow hypnotic rhythm. It wasn’t until the gentle, soft moans became rough, loud grunts that Sherlock stopped completely and pushed himself off of John. Before John could do anything more than whimper at the loss of contact Sherlock reached across to the bedside table and pulled out the barely concealed tube of lube and a condom.

Hovering just above John, Sherlock bucked gently and just enough that their throbbing cocks just barely brushed each other. “Christ!” John screamed at the feather light touched and moved to grab Sherlock’s hips and force him down. Sherlock, however, was much to fast; dropping the lube and condoms on the bed beside them, Sherlock grabbed John’s wrists and forced him back down into the bed. Sherlock looked down the length of him and gave a predatory smile.

Again Sherlock maneuvered himself so that the tip of his own cock would just barely brush against John’s, whose in turn would jump at the slight contact. Growling, John half-heartedly fought back. Taking pity on him, Sherlock leaned down and took John’s mouth for himself. Moving so he could hold both of John’s wrists with just one hand, he used his other to search for the condom. The moment he found it he broke away from the kiss and ripped it open with his teeth.

Letting go completely of John’s wrists, Sherlock moved down the length of John’s body until his mouth was hovering just above John’s dripping cock. Licking up the length of it he took John completely in his mouth and sucked gently. When he moved his head back up he barely let his teeth drag over the skin, making John scream out and dig into the duvet with his fist.

Wasting no time at all he slipped the condom onto John and grasped at the tube he had dropped somewhere near John’s right hip. With one hand closed around the tube he placed the other along John’s jaw line and gently guided the man on top of him, switching their positions. When John was able to move without shaking he took the tube from Sherlock and repaid the man with a chaste kiss that turned into more moaning than actual kissing.

John was quick to slick his fingers and the moment he pressed into Sherlock, sending the man into a perfect arch, John licked up the length of throat that was exposed by the movement. He bit and nipped his way up the pulsing vein, each action eliciting the most beautiful and deep sounds from the man. Gently John worked his fingers around the inside of Sherlock until he found the small bundle of muscles that when pressed right completely undid the consulting detective.

“Enough!” Sherlock’s once smooth as honey voice was ragged and pleading. “I want you John!” Complying John quickly slicked himself up and pressed the tip of his cock to the edge of Sherlock’s entrance. John moved down on top of Sherlock and wrapped his arms around the man who in turn wrapped his whole body around John’s.

“Are you ready?” John felt foolish for asking but he couldn’t bear the thought of causing Sherlock pain. The only response got was a mop of curls nodding into his shoulder and a small nip at his skin. In one quick but gentle thrust John pushed his way inside and burrowed deep inside. In that moment they both arched up and cried out each other’s names. When it passed they collapsed into each other on the bed and John, with his elbows on either side of Sherlock’s head, used his position as leverage to begin moving in and out.

His movements were slow and purposeful; he made sure to push that small bundle of nerves with each slick thrust. Sherlock was writhing beneath him and calling out in what John was sure wasn’t English. As they built up a rhythm they could both feel themselves nearing the edge.  John craned down and gently kissed his partner, it was the most passionate of all the kisses they had shared that night and Sherlock, in some language unknown to John, begged for more.

As their bodies molded together and their tongues entwined they both came in a moment of bright, blinding, euphoria. For what seemed like minutes they stayed pressed together, hearts perfectly in sync with one another. It was when John tried to pull away that Sherlock only held him tighter and buried his head in the space between John’s shoulder and neck. Chuckling John left one arm wrapped around Sherlock and reached up with the other to pat down the sweat-laden curls.

“Have I ever told you exactly how much I love you?” John kissed softly at Sherlock’s shoulder and guided the man back down onto his back. Knowing they were both still oversensitive he gently pulled out of Sherlock, and made quick work of removing and tying off the condom. Grabbing what he assumed to be a shirt from the floor he wiped himself and Sherlock off then laid down next to him. At the first chance he got Sherlock wrapped himself around John and pulled the duvet that had been rustled aside, over them.

“I’ve already deduced as much.” Sherlock’s words were muffled by John’s shoulders but when he professed his own love John could hear the words as clear as day.

Before he drifted off into sleep John hummed at the thought of spending the rest of his Sundays like this. He knew Sherlock would roll his eyes at the thought but would still be just as eager to spend his in the same manner.


End file.
